


these howling ghosts will cleave our lionhearts, but still we roar

by prettyshiroic (dinosuns)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belonging, Business Trip, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing, Introspection, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Shiro (Voltron), Slice of Life, Soft and tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: Keith has been there the entire time, without question. Every step of the way. Keith has picked up the pieces that shattered in the aftermath again and again and again until his hands bleed and his fingers ache to the bone. And not once has he tried to put these pieces back where they once belonged, as if everything could be magically rebuilt the way it was. Not once has Keith tried to fix him, as if he’s broken. No. Keith cradled the pieces and planted seeds in the gaping holes they left behind so that new roots could grow stronger. And, more importantly, they could grow however Shiro wanted them to.It’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.





	these howling ghosts will cleave our lionhearts, but still we roar

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for mention of panic attacks, car accident & injury mention - some exploration of Shiro's PTSD. 
> 
> this is a pinch hit for vld positivity day i really enjoyed writing 8))

With a spiralling sigh, Shiro sets the mediocre book down on the bedside table. To be honest, he probably should’ve taken Lance’s advice on this rather than attempt to plough through it regardless because Keith marvelled into Shiro’s shoulder at the store that the cover looked ‘pretty cool’. There’s a striking red dragon breathing fire at a black dragon; they’re duelling in a purple starry sky beneath an elusive forest. It’s not the kind of cover that would’ve stuck out to Shiro, but Keith has a knack for picking out things that otherwise ebb out of existence.

It’s just a shame the contents aren’t anywhere near as engaging as Keith’s expression had been to the artwork.

And whilst Shiro _would_ tell Keith about his poor taste in books, literally judging a book by its cover  - he can hear the tongue in cheek response already - Shiro can’t do that. Because for some reason, despite it being close to midnight, Keith still hasn’t come to bed. There are only a few possibilities Shiro can think of as to why: Keith has fallen asleep on the couch downstairs with Spot sprawled over his lap, or he’s so focused on a task that he can’t tear himself away.

Overall, Shiro would prefer the former. But Keith’s sharp concentration creates fortresses around him impossible to cleave through. Shiro has witnessed this firsthand many times. If there’s something that has to be done, Keith won’t quit until it’s finished. No matter how late it gets. No matter how it may impact his own self. So if Keith _is_ working on something, then there’s every chance he will be sat there until his focus is broken - which is unlikely to happen unless Shiro intervenes directly.

And that’s the resigned thought that has Shiro hauling himself out of bed, dragging himself down each step to find out which one of his theories is correct.

Already able to hear the persistent clicking of a keypad, Shiro is banking on the latter. There is passion in everything Keith does. From typing out an email, to doing the dishes; to kissing Shiro’s mouth firm and fast. At that thought, Shiro bites down on a smile. There is something so endearing about it. Keith resolves himself to do nothing but his best with every task, and when entirely devoted to the cause Keith is a force to be reckoned with. Considering his line of work, that’s a good quality to have.

Tonight, as Shiro creeps into the living room, he can tell immediately Keith has a new job offer. Those vividly violet eyes are locked on the laptop screen as Keith reads over whatever is keeping him awake. There’s a hunch in his shoulders that looks more and more uncomfortable the longer Shiro stares.

Keith’s position of work is a unique one, which isn’t surprising considering his innate ability to connect and understand animals is second to none. More specifically, cats. To be even more specific: big cats. Lance calls him ‘the lion whisperer’ after a video went viral, frequently sings _‘the circle of life_ ’ in Keith’s presence. Keith pretends to hate it, but the small smile etched into the corner of his mouth always says otherwise.

Currently, Keith is stationed officially at their local zoo, having formed a rare and exceptional bond with the resident lions. But he’s highly sought out elsewhere for his expertise, especially the Paws of Marmora Conservation Project (PoMCP) headed up by Kolivan that works across the world to spread the very ethos Keith pledges himself to daily.

Despite the dangers, Keith loves every moment of being with the lions. He throws himself into it wholeheartedly, not an ounce of hesitation. Shiro has watched him do it once before from the other side of the glass with bated breath.

The lions had accepted Keith so readily into their pack. He sat between them as if he had always belonged there - as if they were kin, and their spirits were made of the same cosmic dust. They playfully nudged him with giant paws, and he had sparred with them on the grass as if they were people. And the way Keith’s face had glowed in the setting sun, the lions nestled close to his side, Shiro isn’t sure he’s seen a more breathtaking sight.

Keith factors in the risks, and he’s clued up enough to know exactly what he’s walking into each time. Shiro knows he’d never blame the lions if things went south. And he wouldn’t want anyone else to either. Above all, Keith has a connection to the lions Shiro can only describe as unspeakably ancient. Keith isn’t arrogant about his skills, remarkably humble and modest, but Shiro will feel proud on his behalf every single time.

“So who do I need to be having words with?”

Keith’s lips twitch, but his eyes remain fixed on the screen.

“Hm?” he hums absently. Maybe it’s a poor time for a joke, but Shiro finds humour to be the perfect springboard in almost every situation. Resting his hand on his face, Shiro smiles sweetly. If Keith were looking his way, he would’ve tilted his head a little, played this more coy.  

“Who is it that’s keeping you from away from our bed?”

It’s not uncommon for Keith to be requested elsewhere for his work, and he strives to answer every call. Most offsite jobs last a couple of days, not particularly far to travel. From the budding silence, Shiro can tell one this is different. The fact Keith hasn’t snorted under his breath at the joke, or given any indication he’s mildly unimpressed, is far too telling.

Instead, Keith remains quiet for a fraction too long. His face is uncharacteristically a blank canvas, no longer the kaleidoscope of subtle fascinating shifts. Right now, it’s the same expression Shiro sees reflected in the mirror some mornings across his own face. There’s an undercurrent of jarring vacancy spread too thick beneath eyes and over eyebrows. Leaning forwards, Shiro frowns.

“Keith-”

As if prompted by his name, Keith takes a sharp breath.

“Kolivan,” he blurts out. “Kolivan sent me a message. There’s a lioness called Salu, they can’t figure out what’s wrong with her.”

That’s not the entire picture, just the blurry edges of rough context. Shiro considers probing for more information as gently as possible. But Keith’s emotions flit across his skin with more clarity than words on a page sometimes. He’s mulling something over, grappling with his options. It’s strange, because Keith isn’t one to hesitate when there’s somebody in need. Shiro shuffles in his seat, trying not to be too off-putting. Patience is paramount.  A few seconds creep past them before Keith finally continues.

“The job itself is gonna take about three weeks.”

Three weeks. _Three weeks._ That would be the longest Keith’s been away since-

“That’s longer than expected,” Shiro musters his most dazzling smile. “But we’ll make it work.”

“That's not everything,” Keith responds with bite aimed mostly at himself. Although, Shiro knows how much Keith dislikes pacifying comments that lead serious conversations absolutely nowhere. So it might be partly directed at him too. Shrio can’t help it, he’s always been inclined to please people and make sure he doesn’t tread on toes that can quickly sharpen into talons. He’s a pacifier, good at appeasing people. Keith never hesitates to remind him that ethos can be unsustainable, that he is always welcome to speak his mind here.

“The job is in Kenya, Shiro.”

Something in Shiro stirs uncomfortably. _Kenya._

“There’s a reserved ticket on a flight tomorrow morning for me if I want it.”

 _Tomorrow._ Shiro nods weakly, trying to wrap his head around it. But his body language doesn’t match the dreadful word that automatically slips out his mouth.  

“Oh.”

“Three weeks is a lot but -...it might not even take that long. I mean, I- I don’t know. Not until I see her for myself.” Shiro hears Keith stumbling through his words, but it’s a struggle to latch onto a solid visual. The thought of that distance, the sheer scale of that number has the corners of Shiro’s vision ebbing out of his reach in a terrifying way. The whole room tips on its axis.

This is definitely unexpected. Kenya is an entirely different country, Kenya is approximately _nine-thousand six-hundred and seventy-four miles away_. There’s a restless pounding in his chest that leaps up into his throat without permission. His hands are growing clammy. Wiping them on his sweatpants, Shiro strives for composure.  

Technically going by the clock in the kitchen, it’s already tomorrow. His time with Keith is slipping further away.

“I have to help her, Shiro.”

Despite the intent, it’s not delivered like his usual affirmations. There’s a question tucked in there he’s undecided to voice. Shiro hears it, but it’s easier not to. More, there’s something uncertain in his eyes that doesn’t subside despite Shiro’s hand moving to rub the back of his neck. Keith is jittery. The gleam in those eyes is tinged with concern not just for Salu, but _for him._

Shiro appreciates knowing he can count on Keith. He’s not ashamed of that. He’s not afraid of falling backwards and knowing without a doubt Keith will be right there to catch him. But the prickly disappointment that grows at his own dependency is difficult to stifle. _Kenya._ Three weeks. Tomorrow. It’s so long, it’s so _far._

It’s so soon.

“Shiro?” Keith prompts, bumping their knees together.

Forcing a smile that he knows Keith won’t buy, Shiro offers reassurance.

“I’ll be fine, Keith.”

There’s a noticeable slam as Keith closes the laptop. Shiro winces. Keith’s entire body twists towards him. There’s a chasm caught on his lips, an expression Shrio has come to learn means that he’s frustrated. The following sigh confirms it. Keith prefers tongues curl around raw honesty, no matter how brutal.

“Be honest, Shiro.”

Shiro’s fingers tighten in the curls of Keith’s hair. That voice is ripped open, raspy and rough around the edges yet so sincere it never ceases to amaze him. Keith chases down the truth, strives for answers when it matters most to have the facts. Reaching for Shiro’s hand, Keith squeezes. His eyes narrow at the realisation the skin is beaded with sweat.

“Just tell me not to go and I won’t. I’ll stay here.”

Searching Keith’s eyes, Shiro finds nothing but intent to act on his words. Hand falling down to Keith’s shoulder, Shiro frowns. A sharp pang in his chest grows at the implications.

“Keith, I’m not telling you what to do. That’s not how this works-“

“I know, I just - it’s -“

It’s been six months since the accident. Six months since a drunk driver took his arm and almost took his life when it skidded off the road and straight towards him on an evening run. Six months of panic attacks when car brakes screech or he’s walking down the pavement on a busy street. Six months of impromptu flashbacks to the incident. Six months of physical therapy and cognitive behavioural therapy once a week. Whilst able to recollect the incident with external calm, there’s guilt that rises within Shiro he cannot place or dare speak. It mutates to shame. And when he looks at Keith it bruises his skin, chokes him in the dark.

Sometimes the helplessness pulls him under too far beneath the water, fills his lungs with piercing ice because he is so _unhelpful_ and powerless. Shiro pushes against the current, fights for each breath as much as he fought in the hospital. But the bitter truth he finds each time he reaches the shoreline of this storm only makes it worse: he’s so unable to give Keith everything he deserves, he’s clipping Keith’s wings before they’ve even fully sprouted.

Keith has been there the entire time, _without question._ Every step of the way. Keith has picked up the pieces that shattered in the aftermath again and again and again until his hands bleed and his fingers ache to the bone. And not once has he tried to put these pieces back where they once belonged, as if everything could be magically rebuilt the way it was. Not once has Keith tried to fix him, as if he’s broken. No. Keith cradled the pieces and planted seeds in the gaping holes they left behind so that new roots could grow stronger. And, more importantly, they could grow however Shiro wanted them to.  

It’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.  

Things aren’t the same, and they won’t be. He’s alive. He has Keith, who is fiercely independent. Shiro likes to be too, only the accident has undoubtedly knocked down a few of his pillars barely holding him up. Keith sits in the cement and waits for it to set whilst Shiro endeavours not to let it all collapse.

It’s part of why they slot together so well. They orbit each other, compass point swinging with ease around them. No matter what, their bond is unbreakable and unshakeable. So Shiro rejects the idea with every fibre of his being that Keith is throwing chances away for him, that he’s prepared to turn down amazing opportunities. _For him._ Worse, because of him, because of the terror that eclipses him, because of all the silent things Keith somehow hears-

It’s not okay. It can’t be.

“It’s been a good week, Keith,” Shiro admits, eyes lingering on the prosthetic. “Things are better than they have been for a while. So I really think you should go.”

“ _Shiro_ -”

Pressing his eyes shut, Shiro struggles to swallow his response beneath Keith’s insistence. By the time his eyes snap open, simmering frustration has grown into something searing and it’s already too late for damage control.

“I can take care of myself, Keith.”

Before this can turn into something it’s not, before Keith hurdles frantically towards an untouched subject, Shiro clears his throat. It’s hard to give this away, to pluck it out. But he has to do his best.

“That came out wrong, I’m sorry.”

Gaze averted, Shiro feels Keith chasing his eyes. He can’t look, he just can’t. It’s an act of cowardice that stings.

“I know you know that. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person who still knows that.” Pause. Shiro wets his lips, finally sliding his eyes to Keith who sits wide-eyed and attentive. “Like you’re the only person who still believes in me.”  

“I’ll always believe in you,” Keith responds in a heartbeat, and Shiro clenches a fist under the table. That unyielding support is overwhelming to comprehend. Shiro _needs_ Keith to know that it’s unconditional, that Shiro supports Keith just as much.  

“Then believe me when I say I’ll be okay if you go. Really, I’ve been doing better. Besides,” lips upturning, Shiro gestures to the laptop, “how often is it that you get a call this big? If anyone can figure out what’s wrong with Salu you can. She needs your help.”

“She does…” Keith agrees, dragging a hand down his face. It’s grim acceptance. Keith always is prepared to do whatever it takes for the cause. He’s also devoted himself to Shiro. When these two loves conflict, Shiro can visibly see Keith being clawed apart savagely by his own stubborn selflessness. He’s splintered right from the spine, burning from the inside and suffocating on the smoke.

“Hey,” Shiro murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. At the touch, Keith slumps forward. For the both of them, it’s soothing. “You don’t have to make this feel like it’s a choice. It’s not, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be okay, Keith. There are lots of people here who can support me if I need anything.”

For extra measure, Shiro lists all the friends in his emergency contacts one by one, scenario by scenario, with details on how they could assist in hopes it will ease Keith’s mind. He tells Keith how Allura will ensure their place remains tidy and meticulously upkept, how Matt and Pidge are good at taking him out for long walks in the park, how Lance will watch lame superhero movies with him in the evenings, how Hunk will make sure he eats even on the days instant mac and cheese looks more tempting than expending more effort to cook.

Besides the tickling of Keith’s eyelash on his skin, there is nothing but quiet. Smoothing a hand across Keith’s jaw, Shiro goes for the one thing Keith has no chance of ever avoiding: his sense of humour.

“Earth to Keith, do you copy?”

Forehead nudging Shiro’s, Keith laughs. It‘s unbalanced, helplessly stuttering into its own shaky oblivion. But Keith’s eyes crinkle at the corners, Shiro feels it as his fingers ghost across the skin there. Oh. _Oh._ He loves those happy creases. He loves Keith so much.

“Okay.”

After a few moments of lingering, Keith pulls away and reopens the laptop to set this in stone. Shiro makes sure to smile encouragingly when Keith looks over, even if it’s a little heavy to hold.

With a few clicks, Keith’s ticket is booked and it’s done. He’s going to Kenya. For three weeks. Tomorrow.

Technically, _today._

As they head to their bedroom, Keith moves slowly and intently. _Reverently._ It sets the tempo to tentative. This is a languid pace Keith seldom ever is content to indulge. Because Keith moves with the intensity of a whirlwind, hurricane hands and fiery fingers that burn in the best of ways. Here however, that flame is a dull insatiable ember - it’s a flame Shiro can choose to dampen or he can kindle. It’s a hunger that can go unsated, that could unravel for as long as Shiro wanted to float _._ Keith makes it all about Shiro. He offers the reins to steer where they go so explicitly that it’s dizzying.

Their touches are laced with tenderness, barely there as they trace across skin so very gently. Shiro slips into it, that’s his choice. Of course it is. He slips into Keith pressing close with body and his mouth and his entire soul for what will be the last time in a while.

Come sunrise, Keith will be away for three weeks. Nestled in the afterglow, Shiro isn’t sure how to start making peace with himself to not be trembling at his core.  

But he’ll be okay. For Keith’s sake, he’ll be okay.

Maybe one day he can be okay for his own sake too.

* * *

 “I’ll send you pictures of everything,” Keith grins, bright-eyed and teeming with enthusiasm despite it being four in the morning. “Especially the baby giraffes.”

Shiro gasps a little at the thought before he can stop himself and that grin only gets bigger. Keith knows giraffes are one of Shiro’s favourite animals. Just like Keith said: _especially the baby ones._ The swell of warmth baby giraffes bring is nowhere close to the way Keith sets him ablaze with a desire to be better and do better and live entirely in  the moment. But it’s definitely enough to chase away shadows that are bound to overstay their welcome over the next couple of days.

Sucking in a breath, Shiro stares at the terminal gate. They’re at departures. It’s an ominous black hole, drawing everything in greedily. Keith is next to dive into it.

And Shiro has gone as far as he can possibly go without being a passenger. Keith still hasn’t let go of his hand, and he doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting go anytime soon. That’s fine with Shiro, only time is slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. They’re stretching out loaded minutes.

The keys in Shiro’s pocket jingle as he traces over them. They’re fortunate to live close, a twenty minute drive at best. Now in ways he hadn’t expected, driving is a security for him. It’s a way to reclaim control from the things viciously haunt him. Behind the wheel is the only place he can feel safe on the road. It’s a little uncomfortable at higher speeds, but substantially better than being anywhere else when travelling. But this drive home without Keith is going to undoubtedly feel strange.

Keith’s still grinning by his side. He’s rambling nonsensically in the way he does when he’s charging ahead and can no longer keep up with the intensity of his own emotions. Shiro can’t catch all the words, but the sight prompts a hopelessly fond smile that his entire face melts into. Not missing a beat, Keith glances over.

That’s a cue.

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Shiro says into Keith’s ear, mostly to hide how his smile becomes strained. Only when he thinks of how proud he feels, does Shiro find the tension lessening. “Go do your thing. Prove to everyone that there is greatness inside of you.”

Groaning, Keith pokes Shiro in the side.

“Ugh. Stop embarrassing me in public.”

There’s a smile there. Shrio feels it against his shoulder as Keith ducks his head. There’s no way Shiro can resist teasing now.

“It’s probably a good thing I left the sign at home.”

Keith snaps his head up, searching for any trace of amusement. But it won’t be there, because Shiro actually has a fairly good poker face. Using it in times like this might be considered cheating, but it’s completely worth it for the indignant huff and eye roll. They keep things light and loving despite parting ways. It’s a pattern that works in moments like this.

“Take care of yourself out there.”

“Yeah. You too.” One final squeeze of their hands and Keith untangles them.

They don’t say goodbye. Shiro knows it’s a word Keith has problems with, how it sets him on edge. Shiro doesn’t blame him. If anything, he agrees. It’s too final, too concentrate in closure that neither want. So instead, they share a fleeting kiss. And before Keith rounds the corner, he gives Shiro a cheeky mock salute over his shoulder.  

The yearning Shiro feels in his chest takes hours to fizzle away.

* * *

 When Shiro wakes up the next day, the yearning distorts into a restless pressing on his lungs that keeps him breathless. Each step is heavy yet barely tangible enough to be there. And so, he topples over the edge of their bed and sheer panic against his own volition. It mutates until he’s endlessly falling, never quite landing in its grasp. Too far to stamp out, not close enough to consume him.

He’s being taunted by his own mind.

It’s cruel how the feeling never snaps into something cataclysmic, never breaks over him the way he expects it to. No matter how the undulations roll through him, Shiro is shackled to dangling. A puppet to his own show who can barely pull his own strings back into motion. They’re mangled badly, enough for the wires in the prosthetic and the veins in his body to feel twisted too. It’s exhausting, just to have the continuous sensation jabbing his side.

When Lance calls, when Matt stops by, when he shares a homely meal with Hunk; it’s still throbbing in the background.

The pressure settles right where Keith’s chin usually rests.

* * *

A week passes quicker than expected, but it doesn’t pass particularly comfortably. Despite the clutter in their apartment Allura had managed to organise a little better, and Shiro still having to share it with the company of their cat, their home feels so strikingly empty.

“I don’t understand. She has stripes, and I cannot see any spots,” Allura had mused in confusion a few days ago when introduced to Spot.

If Keith had been there, he would’ve been smirking his _‘sometimes I’m hilarious and the best part of my jokes is nobody else gets the reference_ ’ smirk.

“There’s a cat in Star Trek called Spot,” Shiro had supplied. “Keith saw a resemblance.”

Allura had left bemused, but it had coaxed the first peak of laughter from Shiro since Keith’s trip.

The only reason Spot is curled up in his lap _right now_ is because Keith, her favourite person, isn’t here to bother. Their cat clearly prefers Keith over him, and always has. Shiro tries not to take offence to it; Keith is Shiro’s favourite person too. So honestly he can relate to Spot’s predicament entirely.

They’ve had a handful of phonecalls, often fleeting due to poor reception. Shiro treasures every note of Keith’s voice, commits the song to memory and lulls himself to sleep with it whilst the light is still on. As promised, Keith finds baby giraffes and ensures to send over a picture every morning. Since the first day, it’s become a routine. Receive photos, have a brief phonecall, set his wallpaper as the latest photo.  

Today, the baby giraffe is poking out from behind its mother’s leg. It’s adorable. Shiro considers sponsoring every single giraffe on the planet no matter how unrealistic that is. And following the photograph being sent, comes a video call. Shiro accepts hastily. The tension pinching his brow slips off, defrosted and no longer able to stick.

“Keith,” Shiro says all too eagerly.

There’s a breathless edge to his voice, childish excitement nestled in there that won’t abate. He can’t help it. Just seeing the screen light up with Keith’s face has him sitting up on the edge of couch. Spot hops off in frustration. There’s an amused expression on Keith’s face, as if despite only being able to see up to Shiro’s shoulders he knows exactly what is going on. He probably does.

“She giving you trouble?”

He definitely does. At the sound of Keith’s voice, Spot immediately bounces up to flop on as much as Shiro’s shoulder as possible. A raspy laugh sounds across the screen, and Shiro’s heart burst inside his chest. Keith’s absence is noticeable, a presence of its own that takes a shape and is terribly sentient. It’s evermore clear now they’re on video call.

“Hey girl. You being good for Shiro?”

Keith smiles warmly, words stretched and eyes lidded enough to indicate he’s more tired than he probably realises. Shiro can see the heavy shadows etched across his face, the crease in his forehead. Regular sleep isn’t something Keith often manages, it’s more a handful of hours here and there at best. In their bed, pressed close together, he usually sleeps a little longer.

Spot purrs, loud enough for the vibrations to be felt against Shiro. “Mm, I miss you too.”

His eyes drag to Shiro. It doesn’t need to be said, that would just make all of this harder and uncomfortable. _I miss you. Keith, I miss you I-_

“How’s the job going?”

_Come home._

“Alright. I got Salu to eat earlier so that’s something. Just...” Keith pouts, folding his arms. “She’s pretty stubborn.”

“Sounds like someone else I know…” Shiro winks, lips cradling amusement.

Keith pokes his tongue out, narrowing his eyes. Shiro’s grin only widens at that.

“It’s good to see you,” Keith admits in the soft hush unfolding between them.

“It’s good to see you too.”

More than good. Better than good. And it’ll be even better when Keith is back. Being separated heightens the sharp pang in his chest, the jittery tension stewing between muscles that tightens in the dark and has his breath stuttering into his pillow.

“How’re things?” Keith asks, swathed with uncertainty. Shiro’s become so in tune to how Keith speaks. With ease, he can understand exactly what is being asked.

“Alright. Spot and I are holding down the fort, and I finished that book.”

“You did?” Keith’s curiosity stirs. “How was it?”

“Terrible.”

It was. It’s one of the most illogical and underwhelming things Shiro has ever read. For a fantasy novel, there was no escapism or allure. Those things are part of the reason he’s drawn to the genre so much in the first place.

“Let’s just say I think I’m going to pick my own book next time.”

Holding his hands up, Keith shrugs.

“Hey, all I said was that the cover looked cool. You made the choice to buy and read it on your own.”

Even in playful conversation, Keith continues to give Shiro agency. His choice. His decision. Despite it being an offhand remark, it’s everything Shiro needed to hear.

“You’re right. Thank you, Keith.”

Keith’s eyes squint in a way that shows he’s considering the possibility they’re no longer discussing the book. But he doesn’t press down on it or investigate further.

“Did you get my latest photo?”

Shiro blinks. “The baby giraffe?”

“Yeah. You’ll never guess what its name is.”

“What?”

Keith leans forwards with a grin that’s all teeth.

“ _Matt_.”

And that sets the tone. The rest of their conversation weaves through general trivial topics. Shiro plays it back in his mind all day, thinking of Keith’s laughter each time a swell of discomfort saunters in uninvited.

Just under two weeks to go.

* * *

Arrivals has always been one of Shiro’s favourite places. He tries not to be obvious when staring, but watching people reunite with their loved ones moves him. It’s admittedly cheesy, something out of a novelty holiday advert. But Shiro likes those adverts, no matter how much Keith rolls his eyes and fondly butts his head into Shiro’s chest each time they play on the TV.

It’s the confirmation that whilst the universe is impossibly vast, the way people love is equally as cosmic. There’s something wonderful about people sharing their stories, about falling so into each other’s gravity the rest of the world around them ebbs out of focus. It’s just them and their partner, or their children, or closest friends. Before his pops passed it used to be twelve-year old Shiro and his grandpa, bounding forward with his gigantic backpack and braces.

Now it’s Keith.

As people start to exit the terminal, Shiro moves a little closer to the railing. The anticipation of seeing Keith again is thrumming restlessly through his veins. Maybe it’s a little silly, but it’s the same kind of sensation he had on their very first date. Keith does that, he has this innate ability to turn Shiro into a nervous teenager at any given time. Clasping the railing, Shiro taps an absent pattern against it with his prosthetic.

No matter how much Keith thinks he has any chance of blending into a crowd, that’s just never going to be true. Shiro spots his red jacket and purple Paws Of Marmora cap the second he enters the walkway.

Keith is sporting the most determined expression he’s ever seen. With purpose he strides, navigating smoothly in and out of the people around him. Shiro raises an eyebrow, amusement bubbling in his chest. People are starting to shoot Keith questioning looks when he darts past them like an indiscreet agent on a secret mission.  As he gets closer, Shiro can see his eyes are sharp, pointedly fixed ahead.

He walks straight past Shiro.

It happens so fast that by the time Shiro processes it, Keith is almost at the other end of the walkway. Blinking, Shiro regathers himself.

“Woah wh-wait! Keith!”

Keith comes to an abrupt halt, turning instinctively at the voice. His eyes widen, lips parting slowly in realisation.

“...Shiro?” Stepping close, Keith glances around in confusion. In one swift motion, he inches closer to sling an arm around Shiro’s waist. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up, like I said I would.” Shrio grins sheepishly, pushing the cap up. “Though I’m guessing you didn’t check your phone.”

Cheeks flush as Keith averts his gaze. “Sorry. I guess I was… a little preoccupied.”

“With what?”

Smiling faintly, Keith tugs Shiro into a firm embrace and it’s the kind of floating Shiro has missed so much.

“Getting home to you.” _Obviously,_ Shiro hears tacked on silently with that fierce affection reserved only for him. “You didn’t have to come get me.”

Shiro pries the cap off Keith’s head, raking a hand through his hair. “I wanted to.”

Keith is a person with expectations for himself who by default he expects nothing from other people. From the outset, the only thing Keith had expected was for Shiro to be another fleeting presence in his life that would inevitably wither into the distance without him.

When it became clear that wasn’t the case, Keith still had expected nothing. That’s always been refreshing, not living up to grand delusions or being put on a pedestal was a surprising but welcomed change.  Learning of Keith’s colossal fear of abandonment due to his elusive past however makes it a bitter victory.

“It’s good to have you back,” he says into Keith’s hair with a chaste yet firm kiss.

“It’s good to be back.”

Keith is lionhearted, brave despite being afraid. In many ways, they’re both constantly hunting down demons. But it’s no longer overwhelming. They make a great team and always have. Back to back with Keith, Shiro could take on the entire world and win. Multiple times.

“Let’s go home,” Keith prompts. And for a moment, Shiro makes no move other than to tug Keith back into his arms.

No matter where they go, into the lion’s den or into the snapping jaws of fate, they’ll come out of it together. And that’s always been enough, it’s always going to be enough.

“I’m already home.”


End file.
